


Sex, Lies, and Three Kinds of Salad

by fangirlSevera



Series: The Black Sheep and Other Family Animals [3]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The New Adventures of Old Christine
Genre: Crossover, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Humor, M/M, Meet the Family, Twins, old family vacation home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's dad's happy that Clint has taken an interest in meeting the family, so Agent Kay arranges a weekend for Clint and Phil to stay with Richard and New Christine at the old family vacation home.</p>
<p>Clint's far too excited, Phil has to wear an I.D. bracelet, Richard's heterosexuality slips a bit, and New Christine takes housekeeping very seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex, Lies, and Three Kinds of Salad

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for how long it's taken me to get this fic out. I can't even claim "life happened." Because it was more my own laziness, frustration, and two aborted starts. I hope that this fic being so much longer than the other two helps make up for it, and that it is enjoyable enough to have been worth the wait.
> 
> For the sake of clarity, when it comes to the titular character of the TV Show, I have been inclined to just refer to her as "Christine" in narrative, and will consistently refer to Richard's girlfriend" as "New Christine." The series treats "Old Christine" more like a default Christine, so I decided to do that as well. Hopefully in dialog, the context clues work.
> 
> Much thanks for my beta partner cruelest_month for all the usual help and her patience.

Clint was far too happy. He'd been grinning in excitement since they woke-up, and all through the flight to St. Louis. Now, in the front seat of the rental car, he hummed to himself. If Clint ended up having a bad time over the weekend, he deserved it. Not that Phil didn't want Clint to get along with his brother and New Christine, but at the same time he didn't want Clint to get along _too_ well with them either. His best hope was that Clint would agree to keep a safe distance in future.

"Hey, I survived meeting your dad," Clint replied to the suggestion, stopping his humming. "Although, I'm still a little pissed that he had to hear about us from Fury and not you."

"I was trying to secure you the proper clearance to meet him. And Director Fury sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong is something you're either going to have to learn to accept, or leave me now."

Clint frowned. "It isn't exactly the most comfortable situation, true. But I guess that's why you're not suppose to – how did your dad put it? 'Fish off the company pier?'"

Phil wasn't even present for most of Clint's first meeting with his dad. He had been stuck in conference rooms all morning, straight through lunch. Fury's eye had kept glancing down at his watch and back at Phil during that last meeting. Phil tried to keep his suspicion at bay and concentrate on Hill's continued arguments against the Avengers Initiative.

After the meeting adjourned, Fury passed by Phil and casually said, "Say hi to your dad for me."

Phil bolted from the conference room and rushed to his office as quickly as possible without damaging his reputation of being eternally collected. To his dismay, he had been too late. Clint and his dad were sitting together on the sofa, Agent Kay holding his wallet open to a wickedly smirking Clint.

"Oh, no," Phil said by way of greeting.

Kay tucked his wallet away and stood. "Kid's sweet when he isn't cocky or sarcastic."

Behind Kay's back Clint mouthed, "He likes me!" Phil knew, too, that was all the paternal approval either of them were going to hear. It at least made Phil more confident that Clint wasn't going to disappear or get his memory erased. Still, he eyed the silver "pen" poking out of Kay's breast pocket with concern.

"Really interested in family, too." Kay continued, clapping a hand on Phil's back, "I like that."

Phil shot Clint a tight look, but Clint just stared back with large, innocent eyes that never ever actually worked. "I know he is."

"So, I was thinking," Kay gave Phil's shoulder a squeeze. "I still have that cabin in Missouri we used to take you boys to in the summer, remember?"

"Yes..." Phil was still looking at Clint who was biting his lips together in a way that made Phil know exactly which kind of embarrassing pictures his dad had trotted out.

"So, why don't you, your brother and your respective significant others take it for a weekend. Just make sure that ex-wife of Richard's doesn't try to weasel her way in."

"A weekend? Dad, you know both Agent Barton and I could be needed at any mo-"

"It's okay. I'll arrange it all with Nick."

"Of course you will," Phil muttered.

Kay turned his back completely to Clint, stepping close into Phil's space and said quietly, "Son, a man has to be more than his job. I almost realized that too late. If you're serious about this boy, he's meeting the brood one way or another. Better to get the bandage torn off now."

Phil sighed, but nodded. "Yes, sir."

Kay nodded, too, stepping back. "Pleasure meeting you, Agent Barton," he said over his shoulder on his way out the door.

"You too, sir!" Clint called after him. At the sound of the door latching shut, Clint let out a long breath. He slapped his hands on his thighs before standing. "Your dad," he shook his head, "scared the hell out of me. No wonder where that no-nonsense attitude of yours comes from. Un-fucking-flappable. And speaking of flaps..." His expression turned cheeky. "You were adorable in your Captain America swim trunks."

So with everyone's meddling, that was how Phil found himself driving back to his old childhood vacation home with a giddy assassin at his side. "Dad was easy. Dad's at least company. You have to tread lighter with Richard and New Christine."

Clint laughed. "Do you really call her that?"

"As long as Old Christine isn't around, I suppose you don't have to differentiate."

Clint leaned back into his seat and resumed humming only to cut himself abruptly off again. "God, I can't _wait_ to meet your brother!"

The only thing more disturbing than Clint's enthusiasm was Richard's when Phil informed him he'd be bringing a boyfriend.

"Really? As in a real man you have sex with?"

Phil rubbed his forehead. "Don't start."

"I'm not! It's just I was beginning to think maybe you weren't really gay after all. Or that something happened to you or _it_ in the army so you couldn't-"

"Richard."

"Okay, okay. Just one more thing. Please tell me you're the top. I'd rather not think of my own brother being the girl in a-"

"I'm hanging up."

And now he had an entire weekend to look forward to filled with similar awkward questions. Phil was grateful for at least the stay of Clint meeting Christine, the first one. It was inevitable if Clint wanted to get to know his nephew. Hell, it was just inevitable. A terrible doubt remained in Phil's mind that once finding out about this fraternal bonding weekend, Christine would insist on coming along. And since Richard didn't have much of a spine, he would let her.

Any lewd jokes or questions Richard could come up with would pale in comparison to Christine's unfiltered, inappropriate mind.

Phil turned down a narrow, gravel road surrounded by trees. It quickly opened to reveal the cabin with a small lake behind it. Richard's pick-up was already parked outside.

Clint's manic grin fell. "I'm nervous."

"About what?" Phil asked, putting the car into park. 

"This is a huge deal. I mean, I met your dad for like twenty minutes. This is two whole days. What if I fuck it up?"

Phil reached over and grabbed Clint's hand. " _You_ won't fuck anything up, okay? If they don't like you, it's on them, not you."

Clint smirked and leaned over to give Phil a quick kiss over the gear shift. "Thanks, boss."

"Make sure to be more careful about that, though."

Clint's smile went back to bright and mischievous. "If I slip up and call you 'boss' or 'sir' we could just tell them we have a kinky Dom/sub relationship."

"No we won't. Richard would want to trade stories." Phil had to repress the shudder. Where he and their dad were experts at secret-keeping, that ability was completely passed-over on Richard and he had the tendency to over-share. Phil never needed to know about what "games" Richard and his ex-wife tried before they gave up on the marriage entirely. He especially didn't need to hear the details nor see the bruises and welts Richard was sporting after.

"You know, you're only making me want to know him more and more. He sounds hilarious."

"As funny as chewing glass." Phil opened the door. "Get the bags? I'll go in first and make sure they're not doing anything you don't want to walk in on."

Phil opened the door and was grateful that his fears were assuaged. New Christine was in the living room, dusting off the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She turned and smiled, hopping down from the hearth. "Richard's stocking the fridge." She stopped short of hugging him, her eyes widened, her breath quickened slightly in panic. "You're not wearing a suit."

"It's okay, look. I found this, thought it might help." Phil rolled up his shirt cuff and showed her a frayed, woven bracelet with his name sewn on it. "Our aunt gave us these when she babysat, so she could tell us apart."

New Christine's smiled returned. "That is helpful, thanks!"

"Cute, can we all get one? Better than name tags."

New Christine jumped at Clint's entrance. Her blinking in surprise quickly turned into _fluttering_ as she took Clint in, and she blushed. "Hi, you must Clint."

"And you're Christine." He shifted their bags to one hand so he could shake hers. 

"Yeah." And she giggled. Great.

"Is that Phil?" Richard's voice got closer as he exited the kitchen. "Good, because we need to talk about-Oh!" He stopped and stared at Clint. " _Hello_."

Phil gritted his teeth. "Richard, this is Clint."

"Wow! I mean, hi." His blush was incredibly worse than Christine's.

Clint was _not_ helping with the way he was gaping right back. Then he had to go and hit them all with the biggest grin Phil had ever seen from him. "I've been looking forward to this."

Richard laughed like a nervous schoolboy. Phil cleared his throat. "So, which room did you take?" He asked, trying to draw Richard's attention away from Clint. 

"The master bedroom of course. Got here first, so dibs."

"Christine, could you please show Clint our room, then?" 

"I can show him," Richard volunteered.

"No, I need to talk to you."

Christine took one of the bags from Clint and led him off. Richard made a small, almost pained noise in his throat as they watched Clint walk away. Phil gave him a hard nudge on the shoulder. "Knock it off."

Richard spun around. "What?"

"You're not allowed to have one of your weird man crushes on Clint."

"I'm not... Okay, let me just put this out here: If he ever hints at having some kind of twin fantasy, I'm in."

"No! And don't even try to suggest it to him. I didn't need you even suggesting it to me."

"Okay, you're right. The threesome idea was wrong. After all, it'd involve you."

"Thank you so much for conceding that."

"So, how about a swap?"

"Richard, you say one more word, I'm taking Clint and leaving."

"Hear me out! We just go to each other's rooms, you take off your little name bracelet, Christine would never know the difference!"

"I remember when we were kids, all the times you'd say 'Hear me out.' I always regretted it then, too."

"Well, one thing's for sure. There's no way _he's_ the girl."

Phil's fingers itched for his sidearm, but that was tucked away in his suitcase. "You need to stop talking," he informed his brother in the tone that has sent junior agents running.

Richard just shook his head. "I don't get it. How did an uptight nerd like you land a guy that hot?"

This was a mistake. Phil knew it from the start. He couldn't last an entire weekend like this. He needed to grab Clint and retreat. The usual Richard-induced headache was already forming. "And how did an insecure moron like you land someone so young?"

"That was hurtful."

Before Phil could point out Richard's hypocrisy, New Christine and Clint returned. "Sorry, there's only the twin beds in that room," New Christine was saying.

"It's okay, we'll push them together." Clint winked at Phil, coming back to his side.

"Oh, hey, stay right there." Richard took his phone out and snapped a picture.

"What are you doing?" Phil asked.

"I promised Christine I'd send her photos since I didn't allow her to come." He started thumbing over the phone's screen. "Oh, also promised Barb. And I'll send one to Matthew, he should see this, too."

New Christine peered around his shoulder. "That's nice. Send me a copy?"

Phil snatched the phone from Richard's hand, but he was too late: MESSAGE SENT was already displayed.

"That is a good picture," Clint said. "Send it to Phil so he can send it to me?"

"Or you could just give me your number," Richard suggested hopefully.

"No, he couldn't," Phil said, handing his brother the phone back.

The phone immediately pinged. Richard looked at his text and chuckled. "Christine says, 'It's not fair, he's not allowed to have a boyfriend prettier than mine.'"

Phil tried to ignore the way Clint smirked in an almost preening way. "I didn't know she was dating again."

Richard shrugged. "She's not. Probably just wanted to make you think she was."

"Why," Clint asked, "would your ex-wife care if her ex-brother-in-law thought she had a boyfriend or not?"

"I try not to rationalize her behavior anymore."

"That way madness lies," Phil added. Clint had just been exposed to barest taste of what Old Christine was like, and he already looked confused. A full meeting may lead to permanent psychological damage. 

Richard's phone pinged again. "It's Barb. She says 'Congratulations' and asks 'does _he_ have a twin brother?'"

Clint shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint her." 

"Disappointing more than her," Richard muttered as he typed back the reply.

Phil's jaw clenched and he reminded himself to check and see if their bedroom had a lock on it, and if not, make one.

"Anyone else getting hungry?" New Christine asked. "Richard set-up the grill on the deck. We brought steaks."

"I'll cook," Phil and Richard said at the same time, shooting death glares at each other after.

Phil could feel Clint shift uncomfortably next him as the younger man said, "Sounds good. You've got beer, right?"

XXX

The stairs of the back deck led directly to a pier over the lake. In the fading early autumn light, being down by the water was all the cooler. Phil and Richard stood together at the grill arguing about food and fire safety. New Christine busied herself with a checked table cloth, place settings, and her bowls of salad (she made three: Garden vegetable, macaroni, and ambrosia for dessert).

Clint just leaned back in his deck chair soaking in the hominess with a bottle of beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He took a photo of Phil brandishing a pair of tongs menacingly at his brother. He immediately sent it to Natasha who hadn't believed him when he told her about the Coulson Has a Twin thing. Her reply was quick:

_If it were anyone else, I'd cry photoshop. Two Coulsons. Disturbing._

_Tell me about it._ He texted back. _It's like the fucking Twilight Zone here._

Phil had shown him a couple old photos of them together at their high school graduation, and before Phil was sent overseas. It would have been less weird had Richard been more like Phil. Instead, Clint was left with a feeling of uncanniness watching someone who looked like Phil in basics, but stood, moved, talked so differently that it was as unsettling as it was amusing.

Clint was already privy to the more casual side of Phil, the after-hours, the at-home, the 'Unh yes, please, harder' Phil Coulson. But then there was _this_ Phil. For all his having to be evasive about his work and daily life, Clint had never seen him more open. The normal quiet exasperation was amplified in a way only a sibling could cause. 

Not to mention the occasional flash of childishness that Clint had _never_ seen before. As much as Phil desperately tried not to let himself stoop to Richard's level, when Richard smacked Phil's hand away from the seasoning with a spatula, Phil retaliated with a jab from the two-pronged fork. He felt a momentary pang for having lost the opportunity to still have a similar relationship with his own brother.

"You haven't said yet how you met." New Christine drew his attention away from the fraternal squabble. She was arranging flowers for a centerpiece. Clint had never seen anyone take a cook-out so seriously.

"We met at work." 

Phil had briefed him on the cover story he had been using on his family. Together they came up with Clint's.

"Really?" Richard said, adding more lighter fluid to the charcoals against Phil's protest. "I can't exactly imagine you in the cubicle across the aisle."

With a mutter along the lines of "Fine, burn your eyebrows off, see if I care." Phil took a seat next to Clint. Clint offered him his half-empty beer, which Phil accepted.

"Different departments," Clint clarified. "I work building security, actually. Been scanning his I.D. badge and flirting every morning and evening for forever before he finally noticed."

"Aaw. That's so sweet." New Christine said. "I feel silly now trying to set you up, Phil. You clearly do fine on your own."

"I dunno," Richard said, eyes narrowing, "I don't buy it."

"What, exactly, don't you 'buy'?" Phil sounded like he regretted asking before even finishing the question.

"You know. Someone like _him_." Richard pointed at Clint with the spatula, "pining for a boring dork who still sleeps on Captain America bedsheets."

"I'll have you know, Captain America bedsheets are _very_ erotic." Clint grinned.

Richard scoffed and went back to the meat.

New Christine's salads were amazing, even if the steaks were overcooked. Over dinner, Richard tried to regale Clint with embarrassing childhood stories. Of course, Richard's idea of embarrassing was to point out what a "nerd" Phil had been. 

"While I was playing soccer in the Fall and baseball in the Spring, Phil was a member of the Junior Classics League and the Model U.N."

"I did sports," Phil argued.

"Swimming doesn't count."

"It's in the Olympics!"

"So is trampoline. If it doesn't have a ball, it's not a sport. Is it any wonder he'd never had a boyfriend until now?"

Clint was getting ready to defend both Phil's and archery's honors, but Phil wasn't done.

"Let's never mind that physical regime I had after high school, what was that called? Oh, yeah, the _army_."

"And that was cool! _You_ were cool twenty years ago. It was just unfortunate you couldn't get laid back then without getting kicked-out. Or you know, you could've tried chicks for just a little while."

Clint couldn't help but notice the way Phil's grip on his steak knife subtly shifted.

Thankfully, New Christine changed the subject, sensing the tension mounting. "Ritchie takes karate. Has Phil told you, Clint?"

"Uh, no," Clint said around a mouthful of ambrosia salad. He swallowed and cleared his throat. He didn't want to make it sound like Phil never spoke about his family, even if it was the truth. "But he sounds like a great kid. I'm sure I'll love him."

After dinner they went back inside. Phil helped Christine with the clean up, and Richard kept Clint occupied with photos of Ritchie. He was an adorable little kid, about eleven years old now with a mop of curly hair that had to come from his mother's side. The kid apparently loved his karate class, but the way Richard talked about, didn't come off that he was very good at it. 

The longer they sat together, Richard seemed to be getting closer and closer until their knees were touching. Somehow his hand ended up on Clint's shoulder, too. Okay, Clint had tried to pretend that the way Richard had looked at him when they first met was just the surprise that Clint wasn't the pasty, bespectacled accountant he clearly had been expecting. But now, with the touching, it had officially gone weird.

Phil's impeccable timing on the field crossed over into his private life, and Clint was saved from the awkward situation by his return from the kitchen. "Christine was telling me you're thinking of renovating the place."

Richard jumped away from Clint, busted. Clint moved too, to allow Phil to sit between them. 

"You couldn't have missed how this place is hardly in top form," Richard said. "I think this is the first time anyone's used it since mom died. I didn't even know dad still owned it." Clint tucked that piece of new information away to ask about later. "The floor boards all squeak, the deck is water damaged, the kitchen is hideously out-dated. So, I was thinking if I could get the place fixed-up, it'd be nice to bring Ritchie here."

"That's sounds like a great idea."

"So, will you ask dad for me?"

"Ask him yourself."

"It'll sound like a better idea coming from you. He likes you better."

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture Clint had always thought was reserved special for him. "Let's not start that again."

"Nothing to start. It's just simple truth: You're dad's favorite. Just accept it and move on like I have."

"This doesn't sound like accepting and moving on."

Clint shifted in his seat, his discomfort growing. This had gone from the fun brotherly squabbling to something deeper that Clint wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable being involved in. New Christine, like a golden angel of mercy, swept in and announced she was tired.

"We all had a long trip," she said, looking at Clint for some back-up. 

"Oh, yeah." Clint stretched his arms and yawned with a wink to New Christine. "I'm ready to hit the hay, Phil."

New Christine tugged on Richard's arm, egging him up off the couch and to go with her to their bedroom. Clint basically had to do the same with Phil, who watched his brother with a frown.

The small beds were metal framed with worn, but clean sheets. Clint smiled, imaging the young twins nestled in them. Phil probably really did have Captain America sheets then. He unzipped his duffel bag, removing the pair of sweat pants to wear to bed and checked on the beretta he'd tucked between layers of clothing.

He looked up at Phil who was leaning against the door, eyes shut. "So, what're you thinking? Push them together or squeeze together in one?" He wasn't sure one mattress would sustain both their weights, but they had slept in far worse circumstances.

Phil looked at the beds, expression indescribable. "I thought maybe we could use one to barricade the door. There's no lock."

"Yeah noticed that."

"Don't want any unwelcome visitors with an unhealthy interest in you."

"Noticed that, too." Clint removed his shirt and paused. "What is that, anyway? I thought he was straight."

"He is. He just forgets that sometimes."

"Anyway, figured he and Christine would be too busy with each other to come bother us." Clint shucked off his jeans and slid on the sweats.

"I may have managed to remind Richard that he'd be in the same bed our parents used."

Clint laughed. "You're the evil twin, you do know that, right?"

"Of course. I'm the smart one after all."

"Hey." Clint went over and took Phil in his arms, kissing him on the temple. "Thanks for this. I know having a brother like Richard doesn't quite fit with the image you've cultivated for yourself. But he's a part of you, like it or not." Clint pulled back just enough to make eye contact. "This is what I want, _all_ of you. Not just the job, and the sex. I want the annoying brother, scary dad, and uncoordinated nephew."

Phil swallowed, bringing his hands up to frame Clint's face. "You're the only one I'm willing to give it all to." He surged forward, taking Clint's mouth with his own. 

Clint held on tight, deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue and... And he really wished he had pushed the beds together already.

Something pounded against the wall. "Hey! Are you making out in there? I think I can hear you making out," Richard called through the wall.

Phil broke away, and needed to take a couple breaths before shouting back, "Then stop listening with your ear to the wall!"

Clint snorted and buried his face in Phil's shoulder to smother his laughing.

Christine's muffled voice could be heard saying, "Stop it, Richard." Before calling over her good nights to Phil and Clint.

Clint, just wanting to be polite, shouted a cheery "Good night!" back. Phil shoved him away. "Stop encouraging them." He went over to his own suitcase and changed.

Clint sat on the opposite bed, realizing that the walls were too thin obviously, and they really shouldn't be trying anything and not just because of the dubious stability of the beds.

XXX

They ended up throwing the mattresses on the floor and slept together back to front, Phil's arm slung over Clint's side. Phil was going to have to insist on getting a full-size bed for the room if Richard was serious about the renovating. 

Phil awoke the next morning before the sun was up. He could both feel and hear Clint's deep intake of breath as he woke-up, too. Clint shifted and stretched before turning over to blink sleepily at Phil. When on an op or if danger was imminent, Clint could snap awake and be clear-headed instantly. But as long as he felt safe, he was extremely lazy, usually sleeping for at least an hour more than Phil.

Clint rolled over and dipped into the small gap between the mattresses as he reached for Phil, causing them to mash together instead of the intended, sleepy kiss. Clint chuckled and rolled with it, settling on top of Phil on the one mattress. "Hi," Clint said, giving him a playful nip on the nose before ducking for that proper Good Morning kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Phil would have been more than happy to accommodate Clint and his morning wood, but Phil's brain would not let him forget about the family members just next door.

"Come on," Clint said, reading his mind (or at least his hesitation), and slid his hands under Phil's t-shirt. "They're still asleep and I can keep quiet for a bit of frottage and a hand job."

"Always the romantic." Clint was kissing him again, tongue slipping between teeth, when inspiration struck. "Shower," Phil gasped.

Clint frowned, affronted. "You're not exactly a bowl of daisies yourself after several hours of travel and sleeping on a dusty floor."

"I mean," Phil shoved at Clint to get off him. Clint rolled over to his own side, letting Phil sit up. "The bathroom is on the other side of the living room and we could shower together."

Clint just shrugged in a way that said _Whatever gets me an orgasm and the sooner, the better._

The bathroom and shower were not collectively very spacious. When Phil twisted the tap, nothing happened. A couple bangs on the pipes made rusty water pour out for a full minute before running clear. Eager to get naked, wet, and slippery, Clint practically shoved Phil under the weak spray.

After their more immediate needs were dealt with and sated, they took to helping wash each other. Had he been home, Phil would not have objected to the second round that Clint's soapy hands were trying to entice. But Phil's mind, always projecting probable scenarios and planning accordingly, was mindful of how long they've been in the shower already, and did not want to risk being caught crossing back to the bedroom together. It would only leave the field wide open for bawdy remarks.

After they dressed and exited the bathroom, they found New Christine waiting patiently. For having only just gotten out of bed, she looked amazingly put-together and fresh. Phil mentally cursed her youth, but only because he hadn't had his coffee yet.

She bit her lip and smiled. "Save any hot water?"

"Of course," Clint answered, "we only ever share to conserve water."

New Christine's smile fell into a pout. "Oh, I thought you were having shower sex." She brushed passed them and said, "If you can start the coffee, I'm making omelettes for breakfast," before locking herself in the bathroom.

Phil was starting to feel like a prat. They hadn't even thought of bringing a six pack or bottle of wine, and here New Christine apparently brought enough groceries to make them full meals. He'd have to suggest they go out for dinner in town tonight and insist on paying to ease his conscience.

In the kitchen, Phil clattered around the cupboards until he found the old coffee kettle. Clint whistled at it as Phil took it apart and rinsed it out before use. "I haven't seen one of those since the circus. Let's make instant oatmeal on a hotplate and it's _my_ childhood we could be reliving."

The comment gave Phil pause. He supposed being someplace so connected to his childhood should have been making him nostalgic, longing for those days of innocent youth. Someone may have called them "Happier times," but that wasn't right. Phil was much happier now.

"Hey." Clint brushed a hand down his arm. "What's going on?"

Phil took a deep breath and looked up at Clint's concerned eyes. "Sorry. Nothing. Childhood, I guess. It feels like a whole different world, even here. But I suppose this place hasn't been the same since..."

"Your mom?"

Phil just nodded and turned up the heat on the burner impatiently.

"You've never said." Clint cleared his throat. "Not that you have to, if you don't want to."

"Leukemia. I was still in basic training."

"I'm sorry."

Phil shook his head. "Another life."

"Must have been some woman, married to your dad, dealing with twin terrors."

Phil allowed the smallest of smiles to lift one corner of his mouth. "You know, her funeral is the first time I ever saw Director Fury. Not met, just saw. It took me a little while to realize it. He didn't have the eye-patch then."

That made Clint laugh, lightening the mood as Phil had hoped. "Really? I thought he was born with it."

The coffee finished percolating and Phil was pouring for himself and Clint when New Christine, hair damp, entered. "No Richard yet? Wait..." Her eyes narrowed at Phil. He held up his wrist and shook the bracelet. "Right, of course. I knew that." She opened the fridge and starting removing all her omelette needs. "Can you wake him, Phil? And Clint can help me with breakfast."

Clint immediately held up his hands in protest. "Oh, I don't-"

"Don't listen to him, Christine, he's good in the kitchen, he's just lazy in the mornings."

Clint flipped him off right before New Christine shoved a bowl and whisk in his hands.

Phil knocked on Richard's bedroom door. "Get up, Christine's making breakfast." There was no response, not even a protesting groan or mumble. "Richard?" He tried again. Still nothing. Phil opened the door to find his brother sprawled on the queen-sized bed in his t-shirt and boxers, one leg dangling off the side, mouth open slightly and snoring. 

"Richard, wake-up!" He said loudly, and giving him a hardy jostle. 

The snoring hitched a moment, but otherwise no reaction.

Phil hated the way Richard brought out his more juvenile side. He took so much pride in being calm, professional, mature. He was definitely not the sort of person who would resort to pinching another man's nose shut and holding his mouth close to wake him up. Unless that other person happened to be his brother.

Phil counted the seconds in his head backwards before Richard jerked and flailed. Phil stepped back, letting Richard fall off the bed, taking the covers with him. Phil could at least congratulate himself for not laughing at the spectacle. 

"What?" Richard asked from the floor, dazed and breathing hard. "What the fuck?"

"Breakfast."

"Waffles?" He asked, if that would have made his rude awakening worth while.

"Omelettes."

"Oh." Richard's breathing slowed as he blinked up at Phil. "Coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, then." Richard stood and stretched, heading out the bedroom door.

"Pants," Phil reminded him.

New Christine refused to serve breakfast until Richard was showered and dressed like everyone else. The omelettes were excellent, but New Christine wouldn't take all the credit, citing Clint's apparent proficiency with whisk.

Richard was on his second cup of coffee when he suddenly set it down with a loud clink and glared at Phil. "You tried to kill me!"

"No I didn't," Phil said calmly, spearing several more pieces of the best home fries he ever had outside of a five star restaurant.

"You were suffocating me!" 

"If I was honestly trying to kill you, I would've done it with a pillow."

Clint snickered. Richard shot him a dirty look then returned his glare to Phil. "Better sleep with one eye open, I will get you back for that."

There was a myriad of comebacks for that: How Phil can and has slept with his eyes open, how Phil will always be awake before Richard, how much, much better men had met their end trying to take Phil Coulson out in his sleep. But he wasn't Phil Coulson right now. He was just Phil Campbell, federal accountant. So he just shrugged and said, "I'd like to see you try."

"I'd like to see that, too," Clint said, grinning around his potatoes. "And take video."

New Christine wrangled Clint into helping with the washing-up. "I think she's trying to train me up to be a proper housewife," he said, taking away Phil's plate. 

"I always thought you'd be fetching in pearls."

"Don't make this weird," Richard complained.

"Why would you think it's weird?" New Christine asked, collecting the coffee mugs. "You try on my jewelry all the time."

Richard shot a panicked look at Phil and Clint who just stared back, amused smirks on their faces. "No I don't," he denied.

"You do. My jewelry box is always disorganized. I don't mind. It's better than when my makeup drawer was always a mess."

Richard shot out of his chair, face turning red. "Phil, we need to talk. Talk about guy stuff, building, hammers, and manly stuff. _Now._ "

Clint couldn't contain himself any longer and started laughing. "You are awesome," Phil heard him say to New Christine as Richard pulled Phil outside.

Richard was trying to show Phil all the places around the cabin that needed reinforcement and improvements, and possible expansion. This was all Richard's area, and all the more reason he needed to talk to their dad himself. Phil just nodded and made noises of agreement while checking his phone for messages and e-mails. He replied to one from Jasper who couldn't remember if he needed form H89G-a or form G89H-b to request clearance for his team to test weapon prototypes from R&D in the field.

_H89G-a AND H89G-b_.

"Are you even listening to me?" Richard asked, hands on his hip as he stood in front of what was definitely a warped window frame.

"I think it's great that you want to fix the place up. If you're looking for my blessing, you have it. Whatever you think is best. All of this? _You talk to dad_."

"He thinks I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot. _But_ ," he added off Richard's offended expression, "you are a grown man, and good at your job. Dad does know that. He'll trust you with this."

"You should still suggest it first."

Phil sighed. "Fine. When I get back to New York I'll talk to dad and tell him how deeply insecure you are and desperate for paternal approval."

"That's all I'm asking."

They went back inside to find New Christine and Clint and find out what they were doing. Apparently they had taken their own little search around the cabin because Phil and Richard found them in the living room laying out a row of rifles on the coffee table.

"Cool, you guys found Dad's hunting stuff!"

Phil was far less excited. "You should have left them where you found them."

"Why?" Clint asked. "Sure, they're old, but we could clean them up. Christine said she knows how."

"Really?" Richard and Phil asked simultaneously.

New Christine just shrugged one shoulder. "Sure, I used to help Daddy with the guns all the time when he went hunting." She started taking one of the rifles apart. It wasn't with military efficiency, but she clearly did know what she was doing.

"And," Clint continued, "even though the army was some time ago, I know you still can handle a gun." He winked at Phil making New Christine giggle and Richard roll his eyes. But Phil knew the wink wasn't for the double entendre the others heard, but sharing their own private joke.

"It's not about whether we can get them working again," Phil said, after returning Clint's little smirk. "It's how no one here holds a hunting license. So, there's no point."

"We don't have to hunt with them," Richard said, not looking up from New Christine's hands as she slid a brush in and out of the barrel. "We can just mess around, shoot some bottles off the deck rails."

"Just the fact that you used the phrase 'mess around' in regards to weapons just reaffirms my belief we should just put these back."

"Don't be a party-pooper, Phil."

"Yeah, _Phil_ ," Clint echoed.

Phil raised his brows hoping Clint understood the unspoken, _You will pay, and pay dearly_. Out-numbered, Phil knew how to have grace in defeat. He sat on the sofa between Clint and New Christine and picked up the third rifle. 

After Richard's third chant of "This is my rifle, this is my gun. This is for fighting, this is for fun," Phil was ready to put the rifle in his hand to use. 

They dug out the empty beer bottles from the recycling bin. If they were doing a shooting contest, Phil insisted on doing it further away from the cabin and lined them up on a bit of old fence closer to the lake. Clint and Phil stood back, letting Richard and New Christine take their turns first.

"You know," Clint said, oddly hesitant, "there was a bow in there, too. She's in pretty rough shape, but I couldn't find anything to fix her up with."

Phil tore his eyes away from watching Richard miss every one of his shots and looked over at Clint. "You want to bring it home? It's got to be far less useful than anything you already have."

"True, but... After seeing her, I can't just leave her like that."

Phil bit his lips together, knowing that the "I love you," that threatened to burst out wasn't the appropriate nor expected response. "Of course you can keep it," was what he said instead.

Clint beamed. "Cool." He turned back to the shooting as New Christine brought her rifle up and took aim.

Almost every bottle that Richard's attempt didn't even touch exploded into shards in quick succession. Only the last one she missed, winging it a little so that it spun, but didn't fall off the fence. Clint whistled low, Phil clicked his teeth together to keep his jaw from dropping. 

"Can we recruit her?" Clint muttered, leaning close to Phil.

"I would feel emasculated, if I wasn't so turned on right now," Richard declared.

New Christine turned around, grinning as she brushed a lock of blond hair out of her sweet face. "Who's next?"

"Actually, honey," Richard grabbed her hand and started pulling her away, "I need to see you inside."

"Okay!" She handed the rifle off to Phil as they ran pass.

"We should probably stay out here for a bit," Clint said, watching them go back indoors.

"No harm in getting some practice in while on vacation," Phil agreed setting up more bottles on the fence.

XXX

They were expected back at HQ in the morning, so Phil and Clint had there things (including the old bow) packed in the car before all four of them went out for an early dinner in town. The agents were going to have to leave for the airport immediately after.

Over a large pizza, the final opportunities were taken for some photos. Clint wanted more of Phil and Richard together, laughing at Richard's insistence of giving his brother bunny ears in each picture. New Christine wanted more pictures of her own, including one of Phil and Clint kissing. 

They said their farewells in the little pizzeria's parking lot. Phil kissed New Christine on the cheek, and hugged his brother with a lot of manly patting on the back. New Christine made a strange high-pitched noise when Clint swept her up in a bear hug. Much to Phil's chagrin, Clint gave the same treatment to Richard who had gone extremely pink in the face and pushed him away when he was let back down on his feet.

The drive back to the airport was giving Phil a sense of déjà vu with the way Clint was grinning next to him. "This was great." Clint said. 

"It could have gone worse," Phil conceded. 

"And next time I get to meet Ritchie. Will I get to be 'Uncle Clint' or just 'Uncle Phil's Special Friend'?"

"We'll see."

Clint nodded. "I can't wait to get back and tell..." Clint cut himself off and cleared his throat. As if Phil didn't already know that Clint turned right around and told Agent Romanoff everything (well, hopefully not _everything_ ) about their relationship. The circle of people with intimate knowledge of his life was widening. It was something Phil was just going to have to accept and get used to, just as Clint had to accept Director Fury being meddlesome in their off-duty lives.

Clint's grin vanished and he sat quietly, thoughtful for a moment. "Although I had fun hanging out with them, I get why someone might not want to have them around _all_ the time."

Phil smiled, and reached over to give Clint's thigh a quick pat. "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> A couple things for those of you who don't watch _The New Adventures of Old Christine_
> 
> -Richard is a contractor.  
> -Richard canonically has inappropriate man-crushes  
> -Also, Richard canonically has a gay brother, but not a twin


End file.
